An Altered Reality
by Burritoyum
Summary: Katniss is the baker's daughter who is hopelessly in love with the blonde hair, blue eyed Seam boy. She's determined to protect those that she loves, and will do anything she can to save them. "Don't you understand? I don't plan on being the one to come out of this. I love him, nothing will change that. I don't care if he doesn't love me back. I will make sure he comes back alive."
1. Can't Escape

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.**

**So, I'm going to change how I've been doing the arrangement of my chapters, hopefully making them more... organized.**

**There's going to be bits from original songs or poems hinting at what lies within the chapters.**

**A/N will be at the end of the chapters.**

**I am going to recognize/ include the reviews and reviewers that, honestly, make my day from the previous chapters, and "role-model" reviews that I hope people will take into consideration for writing reviews...**

**Possibly Spoilers? Tell me what you guys think about that?**

**Enjoy and write me some reviews ;)**

* * *

_Just a story without the words_

_Just a book without the pages_

_Just a lonely girl_

_Pining for the same boy for ages._

_Oh it hurts her as he doesn't notice her adoring gazes._

_Life has been so cruel to her._

_She's lost so much already._

_No she won't escape this world_

_She can't escape these cages._

* * *

**Chapter One:****_ Can't Escape_**

My eyes snap open and I struggle to suppress the scream that rises in my throat.

Breathing heavily, my eyes dart around the room looking for the brother that I so desperately need to see. The only one who's ever been able to comfort me.

But I don't. I never will.

It's with this that my seemingly fine, happy attitude dissolves like the mask that it is. I allow myself a moment to grieve for the things, the _people_, that I have lost, as I do every Reaping Day.

The day it hurts the most.

Others in the district, they don't understand what happens behind the closed doors of the Mellark Bakery. Some probably couldn't even comprehend how broken the quiet merchant girl really is beneath her steely gaze and faked smiles.

This is, of course, how I intend to keep it; how I want it to stay, really. The few that have seen beneath it are enough as it is...

It is only them who I trust enough to see how broken I am. A vase that is covered in cracks, fractures that spread throughout my being. But even they do not see me at my worst. I never let myself to get so far into the depression that lurks so close to the surface of my reality when they are near.

I gasp and my vision begins to blur, but I reprimand myself from shedding a tear. I have not cried, have not let a single tear slip, for nine years, and I don't plan on letting that go any time soon.

The pain hits me with full force and mixes in with hunger that I feel, craving for love that I need but know I won't get.

I blink rapidly, ridding myself of the tears that I'm sure I don't deserve to cry.

The nightmares are not uncommon- they have become part of my daily routine, to be honest, but this is the first time I've allowed myself to _feel_ how much has been taken from the life. I allow myself to sense the hollowed feeling for my dead brother, the brother I will never get back.

The one I have not seen since I was seven.

At the age of sixteen, my brother, Bannock, was taken tribute for the 65th Hunger Games.

I watched him suffer, suffer for the chance to be the one child who is able to come back home.

I had to watch as he slowly deteriorated before my eyes, and I was stuck here being unable to help him, unable to inform him which plants were edible in the vast forest he fought for his life in.

I had to watch, horrified and unable to move as I witnessed his body being torn to pieces by large rabbit-like mutts with blood red eyes and sharp talons. I can't even add up the amount of times I'd wished desperately to take the place of my hero, my brother. It is not as simple as one would think, trying to grasp the edges of reality as I watched his painfully slow death.

After that, we were never the same.

Dad, once loving and cheerful man, fell into a deep depression. Seeing his son being ripped to bits caused his sanity to vanish. Mom lost whatever sanity she still had, and her beatings became more violent and spontaneous, beginning to appear on my face and arms, causing me to be watched even more by my peers. Rye detached himself from me, not wanting to get close to another sibling he could lose just as easily...

We kept the bakery functioning for some time, but soon it became too troublesome as my mother was furious with every mistake I made, and I took all responsibility of our family business. At age seven, I was deprived of any love that remained in my household, and I became reliant on the love from others.

Peeta Everdeen is the one person that my broken heart belongs to. I don't know what it was, but the first time I saw him at age five, I felt something. I felt _love_. His blonde hair and blue eyes matched that of his mother's and sisters', and don't belong in the dark haired, grey eyes that characterized the Seam, where his family lives. His kind heart and amazing drawings and paintings were what caused me to fall in love with him. The way he handles his little sister, Prim, makes me long for his attention, but I know I could never gather up the nerve to talk to him.

Primrose Everdeen is a girl I'd consider my sister, if it weren't for the Seam looks that I carry and the Merchant looks that she's inherited from her mother. This often times makes us laugh and tease that we should switch our living arrangements, but I'd never want her to live in the hell I do here.

Prim is a resourceful girl, and I assume that she's connected the clues of what happens at home as far as my mother's beatings, but I'd never tell her about Dad unless it was necessary.

The rising sun brings me from my thoughts, shining subtly through my window. I squint as its beams hit my eyes, and I begin to smile a bit, thinking of the game I'd be able to get this morning.

I practically fall off the bed when my feet get tangled in my plain white sheets in my haste to get dressed. I freeze, listening for any sign that I've disturbed my mother, and let out a breath of relief when she doesn't let out a screech at me from her room.

I slip into a t-shirt and tattered pants, completing it with my leather hunting jacket that my great grandmother had given me. She had been from the Seam and had married my mother's father, bringing with her this leather jacket. When Bannock was old enough, she had given it to him, but he had refused it, saying it should be given to me.

He used to tell me I was his favorite between me and Rye, because I was unique in every way.

Once again, the tears threaten to make their appearances, and I gulp back a choked sob and squeeze my eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. Today has been worse, I never come this close to crying; not nearly this amount of times.

I just can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen today.

Shoving my grim mood under my surface, I shake my head and open my door slowly, trying to avoid any creaking. Mother might have a hangover, and I wouldn't want to upset her even more than normal.

I pad silently down the stairs, cringing as the last one creaks. That must be a new weak spot, as I've mapped out all its loud creaks over the years to avoid noise. I subconsciously make a mental note to avoid the area and make my way to my hunting boots that lie by the front door. I take a look around the room to ensure that nobody's up yet. Satisfied, I crack the door open and slide out into the cool morning air.

I jog through the town, thankful that everybody is asleep right now.

I veer down to the weak spot in the fence closest to the town, and slip under with ease. As soon as I'm far enough away from the fence, a smile tugs at my lips. The woods have always been my sort of sanctuary, a safe place where I can think and feel at peace.

Fishing my bow and arrows out of the hollowed out log, my hunter's senses amplify. I can hear the birds sing random bits of their songs, and I start to hum a bit, feeling like I need to let some of the things weighing me down.

I still as I spot a particularly large squirrel. I silently get into stance, raising my bow and releasing the arrow with efficiency. I walk over and collect it, removing my arrow from its eye. I get the feeling that there will be plenty of game to share with the others, and enough to trade in for a reaping outfit for Prim. She won't complain about hers, but I know that hers are getting too small for her.

I set off further with a sinking feeling that won't go away.

* * *

By the time noon strikes, I've gotten more than enough game.

As I place my bow and arrows in their log, I begin to plan out my distributions in my head. I will take the smallest amount of food for myself, already quite used to the ribs that protrude.

I place the meat in my game bag and walk a bit longer so that I can enter the Seam through the weak spot in the fence closest to it. Sliding under the fence, I look around for any Peacekeepers. While most are more than lenient when it comes to my breakage of the law, they still make me feel uneasy.

In my head, I tally up the families needing of the meat. I normally go to the families whose main providers have passed, so I decide to stop by the Manson's residence. They'd lost their father and mother from hunger, and now only their thirteen year old looks over the other three children.

I walk up to their small home- which seems more of a shack, really- and knock on the wobbly door. I frown at how easy it would be to knock it down, but wait nonetheless as I hear footsteps approaching.

The door opens up to Sander Manson, the oldest of the four children within. When he sees me, a smile immediately lights up his face, and he invites me in. I give him a small smile as I step past him and into the threshold.

"Katniss! How are you?" he asks, a light dusting of pink painting his cheeks. I chuckle a bit and nod, telling him I'm fine, and we exchange pleasantries.

"So, did you manage anything good today?" he asks, and I nod, never having been too big with words with many people.

"Yeah, I've got some game for you, and I was able to sneak a loaf of bread from the bakery. Mom isn't up yet," I tell him, and he shoots a grateful look up at me.

"It should be enough for at least a week," I continue, "but I'll probably be back within the week, if that's-" I cut off when I hear three squeals from behind me. My lips turn up and I turn around, catching sight of Sander's three little dark haired siblings; Chara, Kolton, and Lana.

"Katniss!" they all shout, and run into me, wrapping their small arms around my legs. I begin to laugh as I bend down to give them hugs.

They scurry off giggling, Lana chattering her unintelligible baby talk. I sigh as I stand back up, my back slightly sore from yesterday's beating.

"Katniss," Sander says in a low voice. I turn my head towards him in question.

"How long has it been since you've eaten properly?" he asks, glancing down at my protruding ribs.

I zip my jacket up hurriedly and narrow my eyes at him.

"I don't know, maybe a few weeks or so? It doesn't matter, Sander. Others need the food more than I do," I tell him stubbornly. It's true, nobody would _try_ to starve themselves in a district with so little food.

"But you haven't been eating at home? You're a merchant, and live at a bakery. Doesn't your mother feed you?" he asks, sounding frustrated. Ah, so he does think I'm doing some sort of thing for appearance, which is saying something considering my dirtied pants and sweaty forehead.

When I don't answer his brows furrow in anger as he stares at his shoes with a calculating face on.

"Katniss," he starts fiercely," I know that you _merchant_ girls worry about your appearances so much, but I thought that you were different. I thought that you would at least have the sense to-" he stops as he looks up to me, his face scrunching up before softening. I'm sure my eyes are wide.

_He hasn't figured it out, has he? No. He couldn't. He couldn't figure out at thirteen what grown adults don't even take a second glance at. _

"Katniss? Does- does your mother feed you?" he asks, suddenly cautious. My mouth opens, but the lie I've prepared sticks in my throat, so I shake my head vigorously.

Finally finding words, I try to deny it. I don't need pity, I need to get out of here.

"No," I say uneasily," of course she feeds me. It would be ridiculous. Why would she keep food from her daughter, when we live in a bakery?" I give a forced laugh, trying to make it seem like I found the thought funny. Trying to pretend that his guess wasn't spot on.

"Katniss, I hope you know you're a terrible liar," he tells me seriously. I look down to him an see exactly what I didn't want to see; pity. He pities me. I need to get out of here.

I gather my game bag after placing the meat and bread on his table.

"I- I've got to go. The Reaping, it's going to be pretty soon. Um, I'll see you later," and with that, I've raced over to the door.

"Katniss!" he calls, trying to stop me, but I don't stop. I don't stop until I've reached the Roxen's home, which consists of a widowed wife who has two children.

Knocking on the door, I catch my breath and take inventory on how much I can give June. Not long after I've knocked, Atillie, her shy six year old, opens door with a toothless smile. I return the smile and let myself in.

"June? I've gotten you some bread and meat," I call out into the quiet house as I set the meat and half of a loaf of bread onto her small table.

"I'll be right in," I hear her soft voice call out from a different room.

She walks in with her toddler, Nala, bouncing on her hip and playing with her mother's dark locks.

I tell her I've left her food on the table, and she thanks me several times before I leave.

My next stop is the Hob, where I hope to trade my remaining game for two dresses I plan on getting for Prim and her mother. A smile appears upon my lips as I imagine her reaction to the blue dress I had spotted a little more than a month ago.

Being on good terms with Ruth, the woman who tends to the stand, she was more than happy to hold on to them for me until I'd had an especially good day out in the woods.

Between my shifts at the bakery, today is the first day that I've been able to be out in the woods since school's been left out, and even though the only reason I'm able to do this is because of the Reaping today, I'm glad to have some time off.

As I wait for Ruth to retrieve the dresses, I look over the several trinkets and objects that shine in the sunlight.

When Ruth returns with the dresses, I have attempt to suppress the smile that threatens to take over my face as I take them and trade it for the remaining six squirrels, four birds, and three loaves of bread. It's an unreasonable deal, but Ruth is known for sticking with her prices, and I really want the dresses.

I fold both neatly and reach in my pocket to retrieve the blue ribbons that Madge had let me trade her for a squirrel.

I've set a fast pace to the Everdeen's, hoping that Peeta won't be home. My heart races at the thought, and I can't hold back the small part of me that _wants_ him to be there.

When I reach their porch, I knock four times, pause, and knock three more times before clicking my tongue twice. This was mine and Prim's special knock, though she's never used it at the bakery, thankfully. I don't know how my mother would react to that.

I've barely gotten time to register that the door's opened before I'm tackled by a short blonde head. I let out an 'oof' when my back makes contact with the ground, but laugh nonetheless.

"Hey Prim," I say in between breathes. She giggles and gets off me so that I can sit up.

"Katniss! I've missed you so much lately! We never get ot see each other anymore," she says, and my heart constricts in my chest a little bit.

"I know, but you know how Mother is, she's been letting Rye slack off lately," I tell her, and she nods in understanding.

My head snaps to the doorway as I hear footsteps approaching. Looking up, I find Mrs. Everdeen looking down at us with a smile on her lips. I smile at her and get up from the ground, helping Prim up in the process.

"Hello, Mrs. Everdeen," I say politely.

"Hello, Katniss. It's nice to see you."

"It's nice to see you too, sorry that I haven't been able to come by lately. Mother's been having me work the long shifts at the bakery," I say, though that's only half of the truth. The closer to Reaping Day that it had gotten, the worse her punishments became.

She invites me in, and I take a seat on thier small, but cozy, couch. Prim takes the seat across from me in a small armchair eyeing the dresses in my arms.

Her blue eyes dart from mine to the dress, twinkling.

"What's that?" she says, refferring to the dresses. I smile widely and bite my lip.

"Well," I draw the word out for dramatic effect, "I know that your Reaping Outfit is getting too small, even if you won't say anything about it. I mean, I hope that you'll wear this more than just on Reapings, but..." I trail off, knowing she understands what I'm trying to say. Her grin widens, and she stretches her arms out with excitement.

I roll my eyes at her eagerness, though I'm just as giddy inside as she is, and hand hers over to her.

"Go put it on, I'll be right here, Little Duck," I tell her, making a shooing motion with my hands.

"Quack!" she giggles as she scurries out of the room.

I turn to Mrs. Everdeen, who wears a small smile, and raise the dress to her.

"I got one for you too, Mrs. Everdeen. I hoped that you might like it," I say nervously, gesturing to the modest light green dress with white lining. Her eyes widen as she takes the dress, giving me a sincere thank you before going down the same hall as Prim had to put it on.

A few minutes later, the two enter the room together holding hands with sparkling eyes.

The deep blue of Prim's dress brings out her bright eyes and the blonde in her hair even more, and the hem reaches just below her knees. Prim is smiling so much that it has to hurt, and I chuckle as she strokes the velvety material.

The light green of Mrs. Everdeen's dress makes her seem younger and more carefree. Her blue eyes, like Prim's, are defined in a different way. In the dress, they look even more defined.

Prim lets go of her mother's hand and skips to the middle of the room and twirls several times, watching the dress flair out around her.

"Mom, isn't this beautiful? It's so soft!" she exclaims, and stops twirling to regain balance.

Tears suddenly pool in her eyes as she looks back to me.

"Katniss," she says with awe, "how did you afford this? Is this velvet? It's amazing!"

"It wasn't that much. I saw these a little over a month ago and asked Ruth to hold them for me," I tell her, trying to wave it off, but Mrs. Everdeen shakes her head.

"Katniss, just _how much_ did these cost?" she asks me. She thinks that I bought these with _money. _I shake my head.

"I don't have that kind of money. It wasn't that much- I hunt," I tell her the last part in a low voice. "I have since I was seven, since Bannock..." I trail off, getting off course. Giving myself a small shake, I continue.

"Anyways, I was able to sneak out a good amount of bread this morning before my mom woke up. It was six squirrels... and four birds, and three loaves of bread," I tell them, hoping to make it seem like a small amount. To be honest, this is a very large amount in District Twelve, but I don't want them to feel like they owe me anything.

Both of their faces turn comical, and Prim is about to say something when the front door opens, revealing a figure. _Peeta._

My heart begins to beat so loud that I'm sure the others can hear it.

He stops as he's halfway through the door, his face painted with shock, confusion, and awe. The room is silent.

"Peeta!" Prim squeals, breaking the silence. "Look at the dresses Katniss got us! Aren't they beautiful?" she asks hopefully, but his face turns to one of suspicion.

"How did you afford these?" he asks with narrowed eyes. My heart drops.

"I- well, I-" I stutter, not thinking I'd ever be able to talk to him.

"We don't need your money, we're perfectly fine as we are," he says heatedly.

My temper begins to flare. Whether or not I love him, he shouldn't jump to conclusions so quickly.

"Now, just hold on a second," I say, trying to keep calm. It's strange that I'd gone from a flustering idiot to having to defend myself.

"No, you hold on a second," he says even more angrily. I don't think that I've ever seen Peeta angry before, he's normally a calm person.

"I have friends who are merchants, but they aren't like this! They don't take their money and rub it in my face! We don't need your fancy clothes, got it? And another thing-" I cut him off, my anger surfacing.

"My fancy clothes? You don't know a thing about how I live," I begin, my volume increasing, "You think that I live such a great life _because I'm from town?_ I'm sure, then, that the snickers from my _fellow merchants_ are in adoration. My _fancy clothes," _I say, gesturing down to my tattered outfit, "Are just _so expensive_. I'm sure that I love the beating that my mother gives me daily. And lastly," I say, knowing that I cannot control the things flying out of my mouth," I must have a great life at home. The brother that I loved more than anything was killed and I had to watch as he was torn to pieces. The nightmares that won't go away, they must deem me amazing. You don't know half of what happens in my life, so before you go and judge it, think about it first," I'm practically screaming by the time that I've finished my rant.

His jaw is slack, as is his family's.

I take a deep breath and rub my face, hiding the tears that rest in my eyes.

Looking at him, I soften my face. "Look, I know you're not a bad person. I- I think you're a sweet guy," I tell him, my cheeks surely turning pink, "but _do not_ think for a second that you have the right to judge me. Your mother is like a mother to me, and I think of Prim as my sister. I would do anything for them, but I wouldn't give charity. I hate receiving it myself," I say, and quickly turn to Prim and Mrs. Everdeen, giving them an apologetic look. I walk over to the door and open it.

"Peeta- I seriously think that we could be good friends," I tell him before stepping outside to make my way to my house to get ready for the Reaping myself.

_Great job. Yeah, let's be _friends._ I'm pretty sure you've just offered yourself over to the friendzone. Maybe we could eventually be more than friends? It could work..._

With that, I feel a spark of hope in my heart.

The tugging feeling that something is going to happen doesn't leave me.

* * *

**Note: **So, this is the new story I've decided to work on! I will still continue in updating my other stories, so don't worry! So, **tell me your thoughts, ideas, questions, etc. on this! **This is going to be the new "format" that I will probably use in my stories, mostly because I feel like this is more organized and... satisfying? As far as how much you guys get out of this, I hope your interest level was brought up! I will be doing _little previews to the next chapter,_ which I hope you guys will appreciate. **Leave Reviews, my favorite ones, as well as ones I hope to be somewhat of role-model reviews will be recognized as I get them!**

_Preview to Chapter Two_

My heart stops. That can't be right. This can't happen, not again. This shouldn't have happened. Her name was in once. _Once_. I was in more than twenty times, and _she _was chosen. She's just a little girl, an innocent little duck. Just another person that I love being torn away from me.

It isn't until I see the silent tears streaming down her face as she is escorted to the stage that it sinks in. It's happening, _again._

I scream her name out, pushing my way through to get to her.

No, I won't allow this to happen again, because this time, I can do something about it.

As the Peacekeepers push me back, I shove them off me with strength that comes from flour lifting. Strength they didn't expect.

Their delay gives me a moment to situate myself, make myself look strong, like someone who would be a worthy opponent.

With as much courage as I can muster, I say in a slightly wavering voice the words that determine the path of which my life is changed.

**Leave Reviews! Love you guys!**

**~Burritoyum**


	2. The One To Live

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.**

**Review and enjoy! :)**

* * *

_I march forwards_

_It becomes silent as the night_

_But I can't help myself_

_I'm selfish, stubborn_

_I won't show my fright_

_I can't show my weakness, my tears, my obvious dislike._

_I keep the mask on, shake his hand_

_And try not to cry._

_I vow then and there_

_That he won't be the one to die._

* * *

**_Chapter Two: The One to Live_**

I walk down the stairs with my mother trailing behind me, my palms nervously twisting the skirt of my light blue dress.

"Katniss," she says tightly. I turn, and my grey eyes meet her cold blue ones. Her expression holds no emotion, no hope that her daughter will make it through the Reaping.

"How many?" she asks in a clipped tone, her eyes narrowing at me. I take a deep breath before answering.

"Twenty-five," I answer, knowing what she's asking. She wants to know how many slips with my name are in the Reaping, most likely so she can bet on the odds of me being drawn. So she can bet whether I cry or vomit or zone out.

She makes me sick.

She nods, and I see a small smirk on her face as she walks out the door, leaving me to trail behind her.

"Your father and Rye will meet us there. You go on ahead, I don't want to be stuck behind all the crying families," she says to me, her voice bitter. "Well, get on with it, you worthless child!" she says, annoyed. When I open my mouth to speak, she marches to me and slaps me.

"Go. On. _Now," _she demands dangerously low. I gulp back a string of obscenities I wish to release on her and begin walking.

_Today is the last day I put up with this,_ I decide internally, but slowly back away from it as I look down at my legs, taking note of the bruises that still remain from last night.

_She doesn't treat Rye like this. She... She never treated Bannock like this. Am I so terrible?_

I walk to the sign-in line, looking around for Prim. I spot her with Peeta and take a deep breath before making my way to them. Avoiding eye contact with Peeta, I look to Prim's worried face. My heart aches as I see how this is effecting her.

Pulling her into a hug, I smooth her hair as I tell her words of reassurance.

"Don't worry, Prim. Your name is only in once. The odds are in your favor," I tell her gently, using a voice that I've only ever used with Prim.

She sniffles. "I know, but I keep feeling like something bad's gonna happen today," she tells me, her voice strained from holding back tears.

I pull her away and hold her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Prim, everything will be alright," I say in effort to assure her.

She nods and gives me a small smile.

My lips quirk up momentarily before telling her in a comical voice, "Now, be strong, Little Duck." Her small smile enlarges and she responds with a light, "Quack!"

I chuckle and say my usual response of, "Quack yourself!"

With that, I look to a thankful-looking Mrs. Everdeen and pull her into a hug as well. "Everything will be fine," I try to comfort her. While I don't know what it's like to have a mother worrying over you, I know that this must be terrifying for her.

I pull away and give her a squeeze on the shoulder. I once again avoid Peeta's eyes as I begin to walk away. "Katniss!" I hear him call out, and I turn, finally allowing myself to look at him. His facial expression is laced with regret and appreciation. "I'm sorry about earlier," he tells me, shifting on his feet.

"I am too," I say sincerely, and he nods before thanking me.

"Your family matters to me too, Peeta," I tell him in response before taking my place in line again.

Once I've been cleared, I walk into the roped off area that contains the other girls and find myself among the other sixteen year olds. I spot Prim moving towards the back, which is where the youngest girls - twelve year old - are. The Reapings are set up so that the youngest are in the back and the oldest - age eighteen- are in the front.

I tune out as the mayor gives the speech of how the Hunger Games came to be, how we deserve this punishment, blah blah blah. Basically, he reads the same Capitol-written speech he recites every year, not even having to read it from the cards anymore.

Soon, the mayor has finished and Effie Trinket, the District 12 escort, struts onto the stage, dressed in a horrifically pink outfit completed with a pink wig.

"Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" she shrills, her pink curls bouncing atop her head. As always, she makes her way to the bowl to her left, announcing, "Ladies first!" My heart pounds, and I begin to worry for Prim, for the sweet children that I often bring meat to, for any undeserving person who will, inevitably, be chosen to fight to the death for entertainment.

Effie dips her hand into the bowl, swirling it for what I'm sure she thinks is dramatic effect. She pulls out a single slip of paper and unfolds it, smoothing it out.

Looking up, she says the name aloud, and my ears buzz. _Primrose Everdeen._

My heart stops. That can't be right.

This can't happen, not again. This shouldn't have happened. Her name was in once. _Once_. I was in more than twenty times, and _she _was chosen. There were girls with their names in there more than forty times. The wave of guilt for wishing this upon someone else barely registers. She's just a little girl, an innocent little duck. Just another person that I love being torn away from me.

It isn't until I see the silent tears streaming down her face as she is escorted to the stage that it sinks in. It's happening, _again._

I scream her name out, pushing my way through to get to her. "Prim! Prim!" The strangled cries cause heads to turn, but I don't care.

No, I won't allow this to happen again, because this time, I can do something about it.

As the Peacekeepers push me back, I shove them off me with strength that comes from flour lifting. Strength they didn't expect.

Their delay gives me a moment to situate myself, make myself look strong, like someone who would be a worthy opponent. I reach her just as she mounts the steps to the stage, determined.

With as much courage as I can muster, I say in a slightly wavering voice the words that determine the path of which my life is changed.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Silence. That's all there is before Effie Trinket's shrill voice destroys it.

"Lovely!" she shrills, clearly excited to have a tribute. Maybe she's thinking of what district she's sure to be promoted to next year.

I start walk stiffly up the steps, but Prim's hands clasp around my waist as she screams out. "No, Katniss! No! You can't go!"

Her cries almost bring tears to my eyes, but I once again force them away. "Let go, Prim," I say hoarsely before clearing my throat. I will let no one see a tear, I will not let anyone see me break down. I refuse to let them see me as a weakling, someone who will be easily disposed of. "Let go," I say again, this time, more forcefully. She knows that I'm about to break down, but her knowledge does not influence her to let her grip on me loosen any.

Suddenly, there's a tug and screaming, and I look back to see Gale lifting her over his shoulder and giving a slight nod of respect. While I've never said much to him, he's Peeta's best friend, so he must hear about me from Prim occasionally.

I take a deep breath before traveling further up the steps and onto the stage and next to Effie, who's nearly bursting with excitement.

"Well!" she drawls out, "A volunteer! What's your name, young lady?" she asks, tilting the expensive mic my way. I gulp before answering out in a clear voice, "Katniss Mellark."

"Just couldn't wait to outshine her, could you?" she says, earning her more than a few dirty looks. Clearing her throat, she gulps nervously before continuing. "Let's give a round of applause for our newest tribute, and District 12's first tribute in decades, Katniss Mellark!"

I look down at my feet, and hear silence. _Maybe Mother's right. Maybe nobody cares about me._ I look up, braced to see looks of disgust or even hatred, but see something I never thought I'd see. At first, it's one person, but it quickly spreads. The crowd raises their three middle fingers on their left hands to their lips and reaches out to me. This is a gesture that is rarely used in our district. It is District 12's sign of thanks, admiration, a good-bye to someone you love.

It makes me want to cry even more, but thankfully the district drunk, Haymitch Abernathy- who is also the only living Victor of District 12- decides to come and congratulate me.

"Look at her! Look at this one!" he hollers. "I like her!" he says, and his proximity to me is close enough that I can smell every odor that surrounds his drunken body. "Lots of... Spunk! More than you!" he shouts, staggering up to the front of the stage. "More than you!" he shouts, pointing at a camera. I wonder for a second whether he is talking to the crowd or if he's so daring to diss the Capitol.

Then, just as he opens his mouth to talk again, he promptly falls off the stage while in his drunken stupor.

"Such excitement for one evening!" Effie says, obviously trying to regain composure. "Off to the boys, shall we?" she asks the audience, who, once again, give no reaction.

"Right then," she mumbles self consciously to herself as she marches over to the boy's bowl. This time, she doesn't swirl her hand, but drops it in and picks a slip out, unfolding it as fast as she can. I've almost zoned out again, forcing myself to look at a particular spot in the distance until I hear her utter two words.

"Peeta Everdeen," the end comes out as a question, but the breath from my lungs is already gone. _Peeta?_ No. No, I must have heard her wrong. Not Peeta, not the Peeta I love. Not him. I have to have heard her wrong, but as I see the crowd below part, I see him, standing as if he can't believe it either. I suppose he can't, considering Prim was just chosen as well. He must think this is an accident.

I have a feeling, though, that this was no accident. Siblings chosen? Sure, it's happened before in other districts, but the fact that Prim only had one slip; it doesn't add up unless the bowls were rigged.

The Capitol has never been above such a thing before, I assume, my mind foggy.

I don't even feel like crying. I'm too shocked, too heartbroken, to do anything but stand there like an idiot. For a split second, he looks at me and my expression unintentionally drops. His eyes linger on mine before I harden my pained gaze and look away as he makes his way to the stage, surrounded by Peacekeepers.

I try not to show the emotions that whirl and whip around within and keep the mask I've managed so far on.

We shake hands, and I look into his eyes, seeing confusion, shock, and possibly disgust buried within them. I suddenly - and unexpectedly to both he and I - pull him into a comforting hug. I'm sure if it were some other time, my cheeks would redden, but this only lights my body with fire, electricity pours into my limbs and my skin tingles where the light curls at the nape of his neck tickle my arm.

How I wish that I could have done this before, any time earlier if possible, if it meant that it didn't have to be at a moment, at an event, like this. Where our lives could be taken in almost a week from now.

I can hear the crowd murmur and gasp. Tributes do not comfort the other, they do not show affection, they do not do more than shake hands. Which means that hugging is out of the question; but I just hold him to me, trying, somehow to reassure him that he will be okay, that Prim will be okay.

I pull back, but keep my hand on his hand, which he squeezes in what I take as an unspoken thank-you. I keep my mask on, and try not to cry.

It's then and there that I know, that I vow, that I will die for this boy that I love. I will do everything to make sure he is the one to survive the 74th Hunger Games, even if I have to kill every other tribute.

I'll make sure that he will be District 12's Victor.

No matter what it takes, he will be the one to live.

* * *

**Note: **So! Here's the new chapter, I realize that it's pretty short, but I plan to update all my stories pretty soon, and I'm trying to balance this with my schoolwork. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I will probably put out an author's note soon on future plans for this story, etc. **Tell me your thoughts, questions, comments, etc on this! ** I read each and every review that you guys leave me, so none will be left unread!

**Reviews From You Guys That I Loved From Last Chapter:**

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_Preview To Chapter Three_

I'm beyond shocked- still trying to figure out why Katniss would volunteer for Prim. Her words to me from this morning reenter in my mind. _Your mother is like a mother to me, and I think of Prim as my sister. I would do anything for them.._

She wasn't lying. A spark ignites in my chest for Katniss Mellark- not for the first time- but I push it back down. Now is not the time.

I'm brought back to my current situation as the crowd parts around me as if I'm carrying some deadly disease. I look up to Katniss on the stage and for a millisecond, her stone-hard expression drops and I see pain etched across her face. When our eyes meet, I see that her silver ones are laced with sorrow and... heartbreak?

Her eyes flicker and her vulnerability is gone as fast as it appeared, and I'm left wondering how often she does that. How often she masks her pain and worry away, and for some reason, the thought makes me want to take her heartbreak and pain away. I shake my head slightly, deciding then and there that I must do everything I can to cut off my feelings for her. I have to win, for Prim. Prim, who Katniss saved for a reason, because she should not have to see this.

I wonder darkly what her reaction would be if I were the one who had to kill her. No, I can only hope that someone will get to her before me...

As I mount the stage, it hits me how disgusted I am at my hopes for her death by another hand.

We're told to shake hands, and I am surprised when she pulls me in for a hug with strength I hadn't expected, and the contact leaves my skin buzzing from where hers met it. The hug stirs a feeling in my chest that I will have to try hard to avoid.

I begin to doubt my abilities of throwing my emotions for her away as she squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. Her expression changes from stone to determination, and I wish that I could read what's going on in that mind of hers. The girl that my mind can't seem to stray far from, because she will always be so important in my life for what she's done for Prim, and without my knowing, everyone else.

She goes through so much pain, has so much loss.

Once again, I have to dismiss my thoughts about the way her smile can light up a room, about how our intwined hands make my heart beat faster.

I can't have those thoughts about the person I may have to kill.

**Leave Reviews! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, even if it is kinda short... Watch out for the Author's Note that may come up soon, I want your thoughts on its contents when it does arrive!**

**~Burritoyum**


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